Northern Allegiance
by editor frog
Summary: What *really* happened on that oft-mentioned but never seen fishing boat near Dover, Delaware? Here's a chance to find out, as Reid and Garcia prove they've got the mettle to take on high seas despite being fish out of water...


**Apparently there was an episode of CM involving Garcia, and unsub, and Alaska that _I_ happened to miss. (Curse out-of-state sibling's weddings...)**

**Anyhoo, this was born more from a newfound obsession to _Deadliest Catch_ and an ongoing joke about a fishing barge in Dover that can be found in some of my shorter stories. For the record, here's what _really _happened off the coast of Delaware...

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**Note: Of course they're not mine. Seriously. Just, um, ignore the shouts you hear in the crawl space... ;) There are some references to my story 'Sartre Revisited,' however.  


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"You have _got_ to be kidding…"

"Fraid not, my sweet. We are stuck."

"Perfect." A slight mumble rolled out of Reid's mouth that was mercifully unintelligible to his colleague. "Of all the places…"

"Well, beats the elevator, don't it?"

Reid sighed. "Good point. Not a five hours I want back."

"Aw. And here I thought you and Morgan got some good insights."

"As to?"

"Each other, oh wise young one." The floor rolled underneath the pair's feet as another wave came in. "All we need now is Roy Schnieder and that mechanical shark."

"Actually, the odds of a shark trying to attack a fishing vessel are very slim. It'd be more likely to roll over in a rogue wave than fall victim to a shark."

"What?"

"Oh, a wave that comes out of nowhere…Garcia?"

"I'm not feeling so good."

Reid crossed the tiny wheelhouse the two colleagues were trapped in since the unsub had lured them out onto an abandoned fishing vessel, the _Northern Allegiance,_ that hadn't seen action in years. Once the pair had been sealed in, the unsub had set the aging boat adrift with no radio and no tracking system. "Here," he said, shoving moth-eaten newspapers and tattered clothes off a long padded bench seat. "Lie down here."

"Lie down? I'll be on the floor in a minute." Garcia held her stomach, her face turning a little green. "I'll be okay."

"If you were any greener, you'd be a Martian."

"Why, Dr. Reid…was that a joke?" A giggle escaped the technical analyst's pressed lips. "Cause I got that one."

The waves outside grew dangerously higher, lapping and crashing over the _Northern Allegiance_'s deck. The bow of the craft was suddenly engulfed in water, pushing the vessel further out to sea. "Come on, come on," the agent murmured, flicking all the buttons and dials on the main control panels. "Whatever happened to a key?"

"Is there one?" Garcia asked.

"I don't know-look over there!" Reid cried, trying his best to steer the rudder so as to balance the boat in between wave crashes. Garcia hurried down a narrow stairwell to the 'house' part of the boat, scouring every drawer and hook looking for the thing that would be their salvation.

Outside the sky grew blacker, giving the maritime grounds an almost midnight feel, though Reid knew it was only about five o'clock in the afternoon. The boat began to lurch as a twenty-foot wave made purchase with the hull, and the sight of large fish flopping on the deckboards started to turn Reid a little queasy. "Oh, God," he said softly. "Garcia!"

"No luck, angelfish," the woman called up the stairs. Another wave hit, and the sound was followed by wood splintering and metal crashing to the ground. "It's okay," Garcia immediately called back. "Just silverware."

Reid took deep breaths, and sat in the ratted captain's chair as though he planned to go out on a fishing trip. The fishy smell of the boat was beginning to get to him. _Thank God the fish were knocked off the deck into the water,_ he thought. _I don't think I could have taken much more of that…_

"No luck," Garcia said. "There is no key, not within a hundred miles of this boat."

"Any chance we can hook something up to get a message out to shore?"

Garcia scanned the small wheelhouse. There was no port for GPS, no satellite hookup, no working radio. "I can maybe jury-rig the radio, but no guarantees," she admitted.

"Aren't you, like, the woman who is a technical goddess?"

"Technical goddess, yes," Garcia said curtly, grabbing the radio panel and yanking it off the side of the bridge. "Ancient technology, though…"

The _Northern Allegiance_ began to pitch again, this time leaning dangerously low on the starboard side. "Can't you steer this thing?" Garcia huffed. "I'm performing delicate surgery down here!"

"_You_ try driving this, Garcia!" Reid spat back. "This isn't like driving a car!"

"Yeah, I noticed," the woman groused as she hit her head slightly against the wall of the wheelhouse. "Well, does the weather look like it's going to let up?"

Reid stared out the panoramic windows of the small space, staring at the vast ocean and the line of coast along the horizon. The darkness was starting to let up a little bit, and a lone seagull carved his way through the lightening sky before them. "Actually, yes," he replied. "We might make it."

"Good," the analyst said, picking up the repaired gizmo and attempting to tune it in. "Hello? Hello? Hello? Is someone out there?"

Static squelched inside the cabin for a few moments, until Garcia quickly turned the volume down. Faint white noise continued to hiss from the radio as the waves started to calm down and the rocking grew to a gentle lull rather than a violent pitch.

"Did you hear that?" Reid said a few moments later, his eyes fixed on the repaired radio.

"Hear wha-" Garcia began, until a thin voice called out over the speaker. "_Northern Allegiance, this is the Rebecca Anne. Is anyone on board? Over."_

"Yes!" the colleagues cried out in unison. "Yes, yes!" Reid tried to think of the right term to use, but it was not forthcoming. "There are two of us; we're trapped in the wheelhouse of the boat. Can you send help?"

A few tense moments passed. _"Northern Allegiance, I am contacting the Coast Guard. We're gonna drive by, see if we can attempt a tow into port. Stand by."_

Relief washed over the faces of the boat's weary crew. "I am _never_ getting _anywhere_ near a boat again," Garcia vowed. "Not unless I'm in a tiny pond and I know the captain."

"Same here," Reid concurred, feeling a little more than proud he'd managed to keep the boat—and his friend—in one piece. _Let's see Morgan do that,_ he thought with a small smile.


End file.
